


collision catalyst

by schrodingers_zombie



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Jonathan Sims, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Season/Series 01, also this martin has adhd or asd too but its less relevant, and it sounded kinda physics-y which is. present in this fic., and martin is gay about it, anyway as usual the only editing i do is as i type up from paper so. haha, background particle physics mention but i don't know anything about physics, background worm mention, bonding in the archives, hopefully its fine, i guess, im so bad at tagging things sorry, infodumping nd jon sims, is the main point, its from death thrice drawn by the scary jokes... go listen to it... okay, the title of this work also has nothing to do with it i just needed something, they don't kiss here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23533939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrodingers_zombie/pseuds/schrodingers_zombie
Summary: summaries are too hard. basically i'm gay and neurodivergent and i want to be infodumped at by a person i like. martin and i have that in common. except martin actually gets to have that happen. i live vicariously thru both jon and martin.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 15
Kudos: 124





	collision catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> summaries are too hard. basically i'm gay and neurodivergent and i want to be infodumped at by a person i like. martin and i have that in common. except martin actually gets to have that happen. i live vicariously thru both jon and martin.

It’s past midnight, and as is the case most nights these days, Martin Blackwood can’t sleep. Normally he’d just toss and turn in bed until either he finally fell asleep for a couple hours, or until it was morning enough that he could just get ready for work. But this time he can’t even relax enough to stay in bed. He needs to _move_. He tries to stay still and he can’t stop thinking about the feeling of worms squirming on and in his skin and –

What he needs is some tea.

So it’s, like, 12:43 am, and Martin gets up from the cot to go, still in his pyjamas, to the archives’ kitchen. He spends a little too long standing at the door of the room he’s staying in, steeling himself, telling himself that he’s _safe_ , that there aren’t any worms in the archive just waiting for him to lower his guard. He takes a deep breath and opens the door.

Behind it, Jon almost falls over, his hand raised as if he was just about to knock.

“Oh,” Martin says. “Uh… what – what are you still doing here?”

Jon looks affronted at that as he adjusts his jacket and tries to look professional again, despite the fact that the bags under his eyes and his messy hair make it look like he hasn’t slept in longer than Martin has.

“Obviously I’m working,” Jon snaps, then pauses, continues more gently. “I, uh. I have some work I needed to finish, so I, I stayed a little late. And I… thought I could use some company.”

“It’s almost 1 in the morning, Jon,” is all Martin can say.

Jon visibly cringes. His hands twist together nervously.

“Er, yes, sorry,” he says. “Of course. You could have been sleeping; I shouldn’t have – “

“No, I meant – you – shouldn’t you be asleep? I mean, home?”

Jon doesn’t respond. His eyes flick past Martin to the desk in the corner of the room. Martin sighs and moves aside to let Jon enter. After all, it’s not like he’s doing any better, right? Bit hypocritical of _him_ to criticise Jon’s sleeping and living habits.

“I was just going to make some tea,” he tells Jon. “Want me to get you some? You can work in here, I… won’t be falling asleep anytime soon regardless.”

“Thank you,” Jon says. He’s still standing, his laptop bag in one hand and a stack of files and papers tucked under his arm.

“Make yourself at home,” Martin says, and leaves. Honestly, he has to admit he’s glad Jon’s there. Not for… not for _that_ reason. Just that making tea for someone _else_ keeps his mind off of the worms a lot better than being alone. And yes, maybe that’s especially true when that someone else happens to be Jon. _Maybe_.

When Martin comes back, carefully holding two cups of tea, Jon’s sitting at the desk, hunched over as usual and tapping away at his computer. One hand traces along the text on a paper while the other pokes at the keys and he’s muttering something under his breath.

“Hey,” Martin says.

Jon jumps, throws a hand over his laptop’s screen like he’s trying to hide something inappropriate, even though Martin can _see_ the screen around his fingers and it’s literally just work.

“Jesus, Martin,” he exhales. “Are you trying to _kill_ me?”

Martin just holds up the mugs in answer and apology, and sets Jon’s down on the desk carefully. Jon’s face softens and he gives Martin a smile. An actual, full smile. Oh. It’s… very cute.

“Oh! Thank you,” he says, and Martin’s chest warms.

Martin takes his own cup of tea to the bed, balancing his phone on his leg as he sits cross-legged against the wall and… watches Jon for a bit. Jon gets back into his work quickly, and soon it seems like he doesn’t even remember Martin’s there. He talks to himself under his breath, his hand occasionally twitching and gesturing like he’s explaining something to someone. Martin should feel weird about _looking_ at Jon like he is, but… he doesn’t. It’s almost calming. Noticing things. Jon does this thing where he peers over his glasses – his prescription is for myopia, Martin knows – to read, and they slip down the bridge of his nose as he squints in such a charmingly old-lady way and… god, Martin’s glad Tim isn’t there to tease him about how lovestruck he no doubt looks right now, mooning over his boss. He takes a sip of his tea to hide his blush.

“Well, you can’t seriously believe I wouldn’t notice _that_ ,” Jon says out loud suddenly.

“Hmm?” Martin says, hoping he sounds as casual as he certainly does not feel.

Jon swivels around to face him, legs tucked up beneath him, and pushes a strand of hair out of his face.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t realize I was… Uh, I was looking at some follow-up on a statement – honestly, not sure why I’m bothering, it’s so _clearly_ unfounded it’s almost not worth investigating if it weren’t part of my job – but it involved, or allegedly involved, I should say… this supposed phenomenon… anyway –“

And then Jon goes into an explanation about ghosts and hauntings and this one specific myth that the statement giver was apparently drawing from and the reason why the description of paranormal activity by this person didn’t make sense. His eyes are bright and his hands never stop dancing in excitement and he looks more excited to be talking than Martin has ever seen him in something work-related. And yes, Martin’s eyes are drawn to the movement of Jon’s mouth, he can’t help it, but he’s also listening raptly to every word Jon’s saying because he makes it all interesting. Martin’s never been that interested in the paranormal, that’s not why he took this job, but Jon’s obvious passion is contagious. When Jon slips into a tangent about particle physics, Martin finds himself intensely interested in the explanation of how it all connects.

And then he imagines Tim and Sasha snickering about how he’s so head-over-heels about Jon he’s caring about _physics_ , and – he doesn’t mind, he _likes_ learning from Jon, but it’s so _predictable_ of him. He lets out an embarrassed laugh.

It seems to jolt Jon out of his flow of words. He goes quiet so abruptly, and sinks back in to his usual closed-off slouch.

“Ah. Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, I, I didn’t meant to get… This is boring you. You were planning to do some – some work, or reading, or – I’m bothering you. Sorry. I know I can get rather _annoying_ like this… I thought I grew out of –“

“No!” Martin says, a little too loudly and quickly. Jon looks startled.

Martin spreads his hands and tries again.

“No, keep going. Please. You’re not annoying. It’s _interesting_. I’m interested in everything you say.” And he blushes, because that last part came out wrong, or maybe it came out too much exactly how he meant it.

Jon still looks doubtful, embarrassed, the usual closed-off guarded Professional Face he usually wears at work. His eyes drift down and to the left, avoiding Martin’s practiced eye contact. “Sorry,” he says again, apologizing for apologizing in a way that seems almost second nature.

Martin grips the cup of tea, lets the warmth seeping into his fingers push back the creeping wave of second-hand anxiety, the familiarity of frustration and _stop asking so many damn questions_ from his own childhood.

But… fuck that, right? Martin’s spent enough time being too scared to do things. Even if it’s just _asking questions_.

“That… that thing you were just saying, about that CERN experiment,” he says carefully, “how does it… I mean, in _this_ case obviously it doesn’t work, but – if you know – how _would_ it…”

Jon looks unsure for another second, but he starts answering while Martin is still fumbling for the words, and the author doesn’t even need to figure out Martin’s own question because Jon understands what he meant, and it’s cute, not lazy writing. And then Jon’s hands slowly untense and _leap_ back into motion in the air, and Martin feels himself start to grin, reflecting the smile he sees on Jon’s face.

Martin keeps asking questions and Jon keeps answering them. At some point, before Martin can process what’s happening, Jon gets up and hops onto the cot, right next to Martin, to show him some diagram on his laptop, and then it gets a little hard to focus on what Jon’s saying because their knees are touching. But also Jon sounds so passionate that it almost cancels it out. Well, not really cancels it out, more… it all multiplies together and becomes very overwhelming and exciting. Martin is hyperaware of _everything_ Jon is saying and doing. It makes him want to bury his face in his hands and scream. In a good way. It’s really unfair; not only does he have this embarrassingly huge crush on his boss, but of _course_ Jon has to keep _reinforcing_ it with these moments of connection in between all the regular assholeishness.

Then Martin yawns, unintentionally.

Jon stops immediately, eyes wide, and glances at his bare wrist like he expects there to be a watch there.

Martin really doesn’t want him to leave, but the clock that _is_ there on the wall says it's already past 3 in the morning and he feels like at this point he could maybe actually fall asleep for a bit before he needs to get up again. And more importantly, Jon always looks exhausted, and Martin wants him to get some rest.

“Maybe we can continue this tomorrow?” Martin says, and tries to project the vibes of _no, really, let’s continue this tomorrow please_.

Jon’s already gathering up his things, and Martin’s glad that his expression isn’t back to _full_ Asshole Boss, but it’s already set and deliberately neutral again.

“Right, yes,” he says, and there it is. Archivist voice. Martin tries not to be disappointed.

Jon is at the door of the room when Martin realizes something.

“Wait, Jon, are you going to be able to get home? You don’t drive here, right? Do you need – are you going home now?”

Jon pauses, like he actually hadn’t thought of that himself. “Oh,” he says. His eyes flicker towards the cot and back up. Martin remembers that he had said that this was the room he used to sleep in when he worked late. “Oh. Don’t worry about it. I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”

Martin _does_ worry about it, and has a feeling that the _something_ might end up being sleeping at his desk. He wants to offer an alternative, suggest that… but that’s pushing it, isn’t it?

So he doesn’t say anything more as Jon leaves, just a “good night” with a small wave.

“Good night, Martin,” Jon says, and then hesitates like he’s considering something. A moment passes. “…Well, I’ll see you in a few hours.”

And the door closes.

Martin manages to fall asleep that night to thoughts of the Higgs Boson and paraphysics.


End file.
